


Missing Pieces

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Cutting, F/M, Father/Son Incest, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebellion, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Sexual Tension, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Vomiting, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Eight years ago, Rick Grimes was shot and sent into a coma. While he was in the coma, the walking dead began to take over the world. Months into the end, Rick woke up, with only one goal in mind. Find his son, Carl. For years Rick passed through several camps, never finding his son, but never losing hope. As time goes on, Rick starts to give up, he hadn't seen his son in eight years, there was a good chance he didn't look anything like he used to. But right when Rick is ready to finally give up, he gets taken hostage by a teenage boy, who takes him to a place called the Sanctuary. What feels like the end for Rick, was really only the beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sent me this prompt   
> "Uhhh Grimescest soulmates au? Like kids get their marks when they turn 13, and Rick doesn't find his family in the apocalypse until Carl is..15? I've lowkey been trying to write this but I have no motivation lmao"   
> and i kinda took it over and now it's gonna be a fic so

Finding Carl was how all of this began. Rick could have stayed in the hosptial, where he knew he could hide and somehow survive. Rick could have killed himself, there really wasn't a point living in such a miserable world after all. Or Rick could have given up, unaware of what his child's face looked like after eight years without him, mind settling on the idea that Carl was somehow sent away and was safe. But Rick couldn't do it. Carl was his boy, he loved that kid more than anything else, and he wasn't going to stop until he found him.

Over the years, Rick had faded in and out of groups all around Georgia. He would stay for a few weeks, travel and scavenge woth them, before explaining that he had to find someone. Most of them thought he was looking for his wife, but even the love he had for Lori could not compare to the love he had for Carl. Carl was a brave kid, Rick knew that he could survive this, that he had survived it. 

In Ricks pocket, tucked down deep in the cloth, was his wallet. He still carried it around, along with his badge and uniform. He didn't have his hat, though. Ricks hat had always been Carls favorite part of the uniform, not the gun or the handcuffs or the walkie talkies, the kid liked the hat. Rick knew Carl was different. He didn't focus on violence, he focused on kindness. Each and every day Carl would run to the door and climb into Ricks arms and ask him how many people he saved. The boy was a wonder. 

Inside of Ricks wallet were a few different photos. One was of Lori and him on their wedding day. They were smiling and clinging to each other as if they planned on letting go. Someone should have told them that holding on too tight breaks things. Their tattoos didn't match, but they were in love, and that was what mattered. Tattoos didn't signify love, though, you could love as many people as you wanted, the tattoos just showed you who you would fit together with, like puzzle pieces. Lori always said it wasn't their job to complete the puzzle, she agreed with that until she saw Shane had the same tattoo as her. A star behind her ear. Shanes was on his ring finger. It was hard for Rick not to be pissed. 

Carl had just been born when they found that out. They were celebrating his first birthday with a cook out, Rick holding his baby while Shane and Lori experienced a love that could never compare to their own. Rick wanted her happy, he did love her, and he wasn't going to stop her from experiencing some of the best feelings in the world. They ended up agreeing to stay married. They wore the rings and put on a pretty good act for Carl, but as he got older he stopped believing it. The kid was young, not blind. Fights began to be more normal, then they turned into the only time Rick and Lori would speak to each other. Rick slept on the couch each night while Lori took the room. Carl was never caught in the middle, though. After each fight he would climb into his dad's lap and cup his cheeks and tell him how much he loved him. That Lori was just mad and didn't mean what she said. Carl wouldn't leave until Rick smiled and pinky promised that he was okay. 

The other photos tucked away in his wallet were photos of Carl. Picture day in kindergarten, first, second, and third grade. A photo of Carl in Ricks hat when he was only four or five. Then a photo of Carl holding Ricks hand. It was the most recent photo, Carl half way through third grade, sitting next to his dad's hosptial bed while he was in a coma. That photo always made Ricks heart ache. The last time his son saw him was when he was nearly dead. Rick couldn't even imagine how hard it was to deal with losing his father, then having the world end. He was only eight years old, he should've been running around and playing hide and seek, not learning how to be a man. 

Rick knew it was a long shot, finding Carl, after all it had been eight years. The kid would be fifteen or sixteen years old by now and look completely different. No matter how many times Rick was let down, though, he could never find it in himself to give up. His boy was still alive, he had to be. Shane wouldn't have let him get hurt. As much as Rick hated to admit it, Shane loved Carl like he was his own son, Shane would have protected him with his life. So would Lori, the only reason she ever stayed with Rick was for Carls sake. She wanted her boy safe and happy just as much as Rick did. They just never agreed on what was best for him. 

Rick was never going to stop looking. He promised himself that he would go into each camp and ask every person he saw if they had met a Carl, or even a person named Lori or Shane. In the beginning Rick would show them pictures of his son, praying that Carl hadn't changed too much, but after a while he stopped. The only time those pictures came out was when Rick missed him most. Each photo had been touched and fiddled with so many times that they were beginning to fade, wrinkles appearing across the paper. 

One of his biggest fears was forgetting. In the beginning Rick would list off his friends and his family. Describe how they looked each night before he went to bed. The list began to grow smaller as time passed. Now all Rick did was remember Carl, Lori and Shane. He knew his parents didn't make it and his friends from the station were found dead inside. There was no use in remembering the dead. They already walked amongst the humans, groaning and staggering towards them, arms stretched out in need. Walkers made Rick feel sick. What was now killing people used to be human, too. A kid, a parent, a brother or a sister. They went to school or had a job. And now they were ruining the world, killing some while causing others to cower in fear. 

As time passed, Rick felt like he needed to start reminding himself who he was. Describe how he used to look. Clean shaven and bright eyes. Hopeful. Happy. Now he looked old and tired. He had a beard and too many scars to count. He was dirty and worn out and done. There had been so many nights where Rick wanted to give up. He looked at his gun and thought about how all it would take would be one pull of a trigger. He could stop running and stop fighting. Finally, he could give up. But then he would think about Carl. Think about how his tiny body would climb into his lap and stay there until Rick felt better again. What Rick wouldn't do to have his boy in his arms again. 

The road Rick drove down was long and empty. A few cars were wrecked on either side, veered off into the grass and slammed into trees, but nothing was in the way of his path. Gravel crunched underneath his tires as he did a steady sixty down the street. It had been days since he saw any sign of people. There were camps, all empty and torn apart. He couldn't tell if the humans or the walkers did it. They seemed to act the same any more. Savage. The only difference was the humans acted on fear while the walkers acted on hunger. 

Days like this were ones that made Rick worry. It felt as if nothing was real. He would spend hours staring at the road, driving with a white knuckle grip, waiting to wake up. Sit up in his bed drenched in sweat, needles stuck inside of him with machines beeping all around him. Things would be so much easier if the bullet had killed him. Sometimes it felt like the reason the world ended was because Rick had been shot. Not because of a random disease or a nuclear weapon gone wrong, but because a man crawled out of a car and shot him.

The walkers couldn't compare to Ricks brain. They were monsters, ones that tore you apart and ate you without a thought, but nothing could compare to the idea that Rick was the last human alive. He had seen hundreds of people over the years, all in their own little groups, but he knew better than believe they were alive. Herds could easily take all of them out. It wasn't far fetched to think he was the only one around. Even though he wanted to believe Carl was alive, it could get hard. Rick had just learned to push the feelings away, turn the music up, drive even faster, and pray that not too many walkers follow him. 

It took a few hours for Rick to finally find a town that had more than a few buildings. Cars littered the road, along with dead bodies. Must have already been gone through, but Rick didn't care. There would always be things to find. There were apartment buildings and a post office, along with a few small stores and a bank. What really caught Ricks eye was a gas station. That had been the only thing he had seen for hours, but those had all been small, only things inside were empty coolers and candy boxes. This one seemed bigger, like it doubled as a convenience store, which meant there would hopefully be some sort of food in there. Most things had expired, but Rick had learned how to choke it down, even if it was two year old tomato soup. Plus, most of the time Rick hopped between camps, so he was never really starving. 

Rick parked his car in the very front of the building. He moved two cars up behind it, then one car parked in front of it. There was enough room to get in and pull out if needed, but to someone who was just in the mood to steal, it seemed like too much work. Next came the part that Rick hated, making his car look dirty. He cut opened a few walkers and slipped his hands inside, grabbing at their rotten organs. He stood up, hands gripping in blood, and smeared the blood across the side of his car and the window. He washed his hands off in a muddy puddle before dipping them in dirt and smearing that across the windshield and hood of the car. He pulled open his passenger side door, pulling out an empty back pack and a gun, before slamming it shut and locking it. Rick checked for the keys in his pocket before making his way inside of the gas stations building. 

The windows were covered in dust and dried blood, causing only a little bit of sunlight to shine into the store. The doors were open, previously broken, which means Rick would have to hope for the best as he looked around. Rick rolled a few of the candy racks in front of the door just in case anyone wanted to come in. Rick pulled the flashlight off of his tool belt and clicked it on, shining it all around the store. The first round was just a walk through, looking around and checking to make sure there was no one else in there, alive or dead. The second round was searching for actual food. He found a few bags of chips, stuffing them into his bag, and a few water bottles that had been knocked to the ground in a hurry. 

Rick shrugged off his bag and set it on the ground, pulling it open and beginning to pack it. The water bottles went in first, then the chips. Ricks knees scraped against the floor as he cralwed around, looking underneath each rack to see if there was any food that had slipped through the cracks and got hidden. There was a bag of Jolly Ranchers and few Air Heads, but nothing else. Rick never really liked candy, but he guessed he could learn how to deal with it. He grabbed the candy and dropped it into his bag, standing back up. Rick was about to leave when he saw one of the racks in the back had spilled. 

His bag hit the floor with a thud as Rick got down on his knees and looked through he food. He stuffed it into his bag, not bothering to look at the labels. He could force anything down if it meant staying alive and he was going to have to if he didn't find any more camps to go to. There was a bunch of knock off candy, some chocolate while others were small cakes. Lucky for Rick, there was also packs of gum. Rick never knew he would be so excited about it, but he was. He rushed and packed his bag before ripping open one of the packs of gum, tearing off the paper and stuffing a few pieces in his mouth. The taste of mint filled his mouth as Rick leaned back on his heels, relaxing. 

Rick was about to stand up when he heard a gun click behind him. His gun was still tucked in his belt, there was no way he could get it without getting shot. Rick fell to the side, his hip hittiny the floor. He leaned back, sighing when the gun pressed against the back of his skull. He was screwed. Beyond screwed. Slowly, Rick raised his hands. "I don't want no trouble." 

"That's good." It was a boy. His voice wasn't deep enough to be a man but he wasn't a child. "Because it doesn't look like you're in the position to do anything..." He fell silent. "Well, you are on your knees, but that's not something I'm into. I'm more of a giver." The boy kicked Rick in his back, knocking him forward against his back pack. Rick fell on top of it before the boy kicked it out of the way. "Hands behind your back... that's it... make it easy on yourself." 

"Look, I'm just trying to find something to eat. It's just me. I don't want to hurt you." Ricks hands grazed the back of the boys shoes as he pressed his hands behind his back. The boy reached down and slipped his hand underneath him, unclasping his belt and pulling it off. "I'm an ex cop."

"Does it seem like I care?" Rick could hear his belt swinging behind him, his gun hitting the knife. The belt fell down next to his head within seconds, weight settling on his lower back. His wrists were jerked around as the boy silently put his handcuffs on him. Once they both clicked around his wrists, the boy pulled Rick backwards so he was on his knees. 

"Stand up. I got your bag. And don't try to run. My gun is faster than you." The boy had long hair that fell across his face. Bandages were wrapped around his head, probably covering a gash, or maybe even his eye. Rick had seen some nasty things. A fucked up eye wouldn't be shocking. Nothing was shocking anymore, really. The boy grabbed his bag and walked Rick towards the front doors, the gun pressed deep against his back. "You know, I almost passed up. I went through your car, though, and that's when I realized it was fresh blood. I go past this gas station every fucking day, there is no way that a person could have slipped in and out without me knowing."

"What do you want?" Rick asked as the boy guided him out the door. The racks were pushed ever so slightly to the side, just enough for the boy to get inside. He really knew what to do. "You want a medal or something? Congrats, you got eyes." 

"I wouldn't be a smart ass if I were you." All the doors on Ricks car were open, the seats and trunk were empty. The kid must know how to pick locks. "You got some good shit. You're stupid, though, traveling alone never ends well. As you can see." In front of them was a big truck, food was painted on the side, but the paint was chipping. "Be happy, though. You'll get fed. You'll get a room. Will you be happy? No. But happiness now a days is reserved for people who fight dirty, people who deserve it." 

"Yes, I'm sure you deserve to be rewarded for attacking me. I wasn't doing anything. I was just driving and finding some food." Rick had to admit this kid pissed him off. He never worked well with teenagers. He was too mouthy, too used to his son doing everything he asked. This kid was the opposite of Carl. He must have been a nightmare to raise. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" 

"Doesn't matter." He pulled open the passenger side door and shoved Rick inside, tying rope around him and the seat. The rope dug into his skin, making it impossible to move and hard to breathe. "And all you need to know.." He smiled at Rick. Boyish. This kid thought this was a fucking game. "Is that you, my sweet little cop, are fucked."


	2. Chapter 2

They drove for a while in silence, no music, no talking, just the sound of the tires rolling across the gravel. Every once in a while they would drive over a body or two, causing the car to rise up before thudding against the ground once more. The boy kept his eyes on the road, only one hand touching the wheel. His pale fingers curled around the wheel, slowly sliding up and down it each time they turned down a new road. Rick peered out the window, watching for houses or buildings. There were none. Every half hour there would be a small road leading to a few houses, but the houses were burnt and falling apart. Rick hoped they were accidental burnings, leaving a candle on too long or a camp fire spreading, he didn't want to think about the person that did this. It made Rick sick when he thought about how evil people had become and that this boy was dragging him towards one of the evil people. Maybe the boy was one of the evil people. It was hard to tell anymore, now that monsters wore human faces. 

"Where are you taking me?" Rick asked, turning his head and looking at the boy. Small scars peeked out from underneath the bandages giving Rick a good idea of what might have happened. Years ago, Rick had met a man who went by the title of The Governor who was missing an eye. The skin had grown back around it, but it was still ugly. He wore an eye patch to hide it, but he told Rick that he trusted him enough to tell him what had happened. As soon as he told him, Rick left. He didn't need to live with a man who kept walkers like they were pets. After a minute or two of silence Rick repeated himself. "Where are you taking me?" 

The boy sighed and rolled his visable eye. Part of Rick wanted to shout at him. Ask him why he was so annoyed by Rick. He had done nothing other than find food. He didn't fight or run. After being taken hostage he deserved to at least know where he was being taken. "The Sanctuary." Now it was Ricks turn to roll his eyes. He had seen places like that, places that gave themselves titles. Alexandria. Terminus. Woodbury. All of them ended badly. Cannibals. Crazies. Alexandria was just full of people who liked to ignore the world. They were blind, stupid. "I saw that," The boy leaned forward some. "It's not a bad place, we save people." 

"Pretty ironic coming from you. You threatened to shoot me for getting food. Sounds more like you just want everything and none of the work." Rick didn't believe what he said for a minute. The kid had obviously worked hard. The scars that littered his arms, hands, and even his face proved that he wasn't one for running and stealing. He fought, it was admirable, but it was also inconvenient. He needed someone lazy or at least someone tired. The boy seemed to be neither. "And how full of yourself would you have to be to name your home The Sanctuary, I mean come on."

"I should've gagged you." The kid slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Must have a short temper if Rick was already annoying him. Or maybe he was just on edge. "And if you were Negan you would be full of yourself. The man's crazy, but that's what makes him so smart. He's survived because he wants to. He's not afraid of hurting people and taking what he needs." It felt like Rick was joining a cult. The kid was fucked up. Praising a man for hurting people? It sounded more selfish than brave. The boy turned and looked at him. "It's every man for himself out here, you're lucky I didn't leave you to die. I am saving you, you just don't want to see it because your black and white thinking makes you think everyone's out to get you." 

The boy slowed to a stop. "You aren't special. You are just a piece of meat, just like those dead people out there. You got no problem killing them, why should I have a problem killing you? It can be self defense, it can be for resources." He leaned towards Rick, sliding his hand through his hair and pulling it, guiding Rick towards him. "The only thing separating us from being like those monsters out there is that we can still think about consequences, about choices. All they think about is hunger." Rick used to consider the walkers lucky. They didn't feel fear or pain like humans did. "So get off your god damn high horse and realize that they are playing the same game we are. Survival." 

Underneath them, the engine revved up, growling like the monsters outside. The car lunched forward as the boy began driving once more. The way that the car swayed was almost soothing. There was obviously stuff packed in the back. People. Supplies. Dead bodies. Rick didn't know, but whatever it was added a lot of weight to the end of the truck, causing it to learn dangerously far each time that they turned or drove over something. The sun was making its way through the sky, making the time between three or four in the evening. Rick had set out at one. They really bad been driving for a good hour or two. Ricks muscles burned. The rope was tight and so we're the cuffs, there was no way he could move around and get comfortable. He wouldn't even consider asking. This boy wasn't merciful.

"Negan..." Rick began. "Who is he?" Rick already had a good idea. The leader, unless he was too afraid to claim that title, but from what the boy said, it sounded like Negan had no problem taking what was his. The silence was beginning to make his skin crawl. Rick needed some kind of noise that wasn't the groaning of the tires underneath the weight of the truck. "And what is the Sanctuary..." A place full of insane people. Ruthless people. People who traded their humanity for savagery. 

"He's the leader," The boy looked forward. "And I'm his right hand man, so don't even think about trying anything." He sped up, driving onto a highway ramp. Ahead of them sat two groups of cars, blocking the rest of the highway. "And the Sanctuary is home. We saved people. It's a community, not some prison. People can leave if they want to. It's just... confusing when they leave. Why would you leave such a safe place? There's jobs. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. A place to sleep. A place to shower." He shook his head. "Independence is over rated."

"You only say that because you're in control." Rick pulled at the ropes for the hundredth time. Still no avail. The kid knew how to tie knots. His daddy probably taught him. "When you're being controlled its different. You don't have a choice..." He sighed, leaning back in the seat. "As you can see." Rick wondered if the kid would drive through and push the cars out of the way. Or maybe he would get out and move them out of the way and move them back. But as they got closer, each car started and pulled out of the way. People were waiting for him. "Those your men?"

"The Saviors, yes." He glanced up in the rear view mirror and looked back at all of the drivers. They pulled the cars back into place before all climbing into one and driving behind them. "That's what we call our people." Rick noticed the "we" which meant the kid was probably more than the right hand man of Negan. He was his bitch, too. "And unlike you, they respect me. And I respect them. Respect is earned." The boy sped up, leaving the car far behind him. Rick doubted the boy really respected them. 

"Well, you won't be earning mine any time soon." Rick turned his head to look out the window, stopping when he saw a large gray building in the distance. That must be the Sanctuary. There were a few people on top of the building, moving around. From this distance they looked like ants. Rick turned back and looked at the road, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. He needed to keep his hands awake. If he needed to fight or grab a gun he needed to be ready. These people would be hard to beat. "You're beyond rude, your daddy ever teach you how to be polite?" 

Within seconds the car had stopped moving and a gun was pressed to Ricks temple. "You don't know shit about my dad, he was a police officer, he was one of the most respectful men I fucking knew." Knew. His father must be dead. Rick was stupid for making a comment like that. He knew better than to insult a family member without knowing if they were dead or alive. "So, if I were you, I would shut the hell up before I rip each of your teeth out, one by one." Cold metal slapped him across the face so hard Rick was sure it would leave a bruise. And then like that, they were moving again. 

Rick clenched his jaw, looking down at his lap. He understood the coldness, partly. This kid was exactly that, a kid. And by the looks of it he was sixteen or seventeen. He was growing up with dead people roaming the earth, tearing people apart and eating them alive. He had lost his parents. Instead of searching for his soulmate and studying the tattoo he would've gotten three years ago, he was surviving. It broke Ricks heart. Kids always did. At the age of 13 this kids life was falling apart. A person's 13th birthday was supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life. It's when your tattoo shows up. The one that takes you one step closer to finding your lifelong partner. Your soulmate. What used to seem like the most important thing in the world now seemed stupid and small.

"Kid..." Rick pressed his tongue to his cheek. "Look, I'm sorry. I... I lost my boy. And my wife. And my friends. I get it." He took a deep breath, it was shaky. "I'm not the type of person to disrespect the dead. I think doing so is unforgivable and sick and just wrong. And I'm sorry. I get it, if someone ever said something about my son getting eaten-" 

"I've lost my mom and my dad and it is nothing like your little sob story." The cold words fell from his mouth effortlessly. "A father's job is to protect his kid. To love him and protect him. And you fucking failed." He slammed his hands against the wheel and all Rick could think was that he was thankful those blows weren't landing on him. "My mom was bleeding out. I has to shoot her in the fucking head. I had to kill her so that I didn't have to see her turn into... into a monster. And my dad? He was shot. Killed before any of this fucking happened.." The boy was shaking. "I only got my little sister and shes barely made it by. So if you think... if you think I'm gonna let you come into my home and ruin it... you're fucking crazy." 

Rick nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. They pulled down an off ramp and onto a paved road. It was nice not driving on gravel. It was bumpy and painful and Rick couldn't take having the rope dig into his skin even more. He didn't blame the kid for being this way. Cold and tough. All too often people manipulate and hurt kids. He was only protecting himself and Rick could admire that. He was living for his sister. Rick was living for his son. They had common ground. Maybe Rick could somehow get the kid to trust him or at least believe he wasn't a threat. The air in the car was tense. The boy was still shaking in anger and Rick was still afraid of him. 

"You look young," Rick began. "Only sixteen or seventeen." He looked ahead of them then back at the boy. "That means someone had to teach you to drive." His dad is dead and so is his mom, so don't make any jokes about that, Rick told himself. He couldn't made the ice he was on any thinner. There was no wiggle room for making mistakes. They had numbers, loyal numbers at that. "I didn't know they had driving school during the apocalypse." He smiled a little, but it only lasted a second. 

The boy reached into his pocket and cut the ropes that were wrapped around Ricks upper chest and torso. The ones that tied around his hips remained the same. For a moment, Rick thought the kid was being nice and trusting him. He was wrong. He sped up before slamming on the breaks. Rick jerked forward and slammed his face into the dashboard, nearly breaking his nose. As if nothing happened the boy started to drive again. It was obvious he was a teenager. Untying Rick just to brake and slam his face into the dashboard was a immature punishment. And a dangerous thing to do if Rick was anyone else. Rick had morals, though, and he wasn't going to hurt a kid. 

Rick leaned back against the seat, moving his arms around some trying to relieve the tension in his muscles. "You happy now?" Rick asked. He was weak for little boys. They all reminded him of Carl and they always broke his heart. For each boy he met, Rick wanted to fix them. Protect them. Teach them. He wanted to father them and make them happy. This boy was far from Carl but Rick couldn't help it. He wanted the boy to smile. He deserved it after walking through hell and back. "You done glaring all the damn time?" 

"I am very happy. On the inside." He glanced at Rick and shook his head. "Playing all mister nice guy isn't going to do you any good. You're still on my shit list for that comment about my dad." Rick wondered if Carl loved him the way this boy loved his father. If Carl was obsessed with honoring Rick the way this boy was. "But... hurting you was kind of funny. You looked so happy when I cut those ropes."

"You're a sadist." The car already felt lighter. There was still a million miles to go before this kid would maybe even tolerate Rick, but it was a start. Rick almost said he thought you would have to be a sadist to be in control in this world. You would have to be hard all around and punish people. Rick wouldn't be able to do that, not by choice anyway. He had killed people before, but only when they tried to kill him. 

"I'm not." The boy was holding the steering wheel with one hand again. "I just know what you're trying to do. It's not going to work either." He shook his head, sighing. "You aren't gonna become my long lost father or my best friend. I had one dad. He's dead. I don't need another one." Poor kid was so shut off. It only made Rick want to hold him more. Show him that he can be hard but not cruel. The world still needs goodness. 

"What am I trying to do?" Rick studied the boy. The way his hair fell across his shoulders and the way he gripped the wheel. He was tense. Must be hard. Each day he lives his life knowing he killed his mother and his father is dead. He has to go out and fight the dead and defend himself at sixteen. Rick felt bad for him. He deserved better than all of this. All of the kids do. 

"You're trying to be my father." He was slowing down, tearing his eyes away from the road. "You can't be him. I don't want you to be him." He gripped the wheel tighter and Rick thought he may break it. "I've finally accepted that he's dead, I don't need some stranger riddled with guilt to come and try to fix me. I'm fine." As fine as someone could be in a world like this. "We're getting close. If I were you I would start figuring out how to be polite and follow directions. Negan isn't as forgiving as I am." Rick couldn't even imagine what Negan was like if this boy called himself forgiving. 

Ricks mouth was open, but the words were lost when they pulled into the Sanctuary. The building was bigger than Rick could have imagined, chained up walkers standing outside. People pulled the gates open as the boy drive inside. Dozens of people stood outside, but only one stood in the very front. He wore a leather jacket and had black slicked back hair. In his hand was a bloody baseball bat that was wrapped in barbed wire. 

"Yeah," The boy was smiling but for all the wrong reasons. "That's how most people react to Negan. Shocked. Afraid. A few get horny, but they are always the first to die." Rick couldn't wrap his head around Negan killing people that wanted him. "Negans mine, not that I see you as competition. He doesn't like older guys. He likes the young, angry ones that are chalked full of daddy issues. You seem to, too..." Rick didn't know what the kid was talking about. "Maybe you guys can become friends." The boy shut the car off and climbed out, leaving Rick in a stunned silence.


	3. Chapter 3

The boy walked towards Negan the way an animal stalks its prey. He wrapped his arms around Negans neck and pulled him down, kissing him. Negan handed his bat off to someone who was covered in scars so he could wrap his arms around the boy and pull him closer. Negans hands tucked themselves in the back of his boys jeans, walking him back up against the front of the car. "Darling," Rick could hear Negans disgusting panting. He was old enough to be the kids father, he shouldn't be touching and kissing him. "Did you bring back some good stuff?" 

"Mhm." The boy looked up at him before smiling. "Got a bag of weapons and some food..." He tilted his head to the side, pulling Negan back into another kiss. "And something extra special that you're gonna love." He untangled himself from Negans arms and walked around the truck, climbing up and pulling the passenger door open. He climbed into Ricks lap, pulling his knife out and cutting through the rope. He leaned down towards Rick, curling his fingers around his throat. "Do as he says, speak when spoken to, and remember... I am much more forgiving than he is." With that the boy climbed out, grabbing Rick by his arm, yanking him out onto the ground.

Rick hit the ground with a thud, his wrists getting cut by the metal handcuffs. He had been wearing them for hours and it felt like as time passed the tighter they got. Gravel was digging into his knees, his body folding over on itself. Rick made sure to keep his head down, studying the sharp shape of each rock. He wasn't in the position to be picking fights or disobeying. He didn't have any weapons and he didn't know where to run if he managed to get out. Being submissive is better than fighting back, sometimes, because when you're submissive you give them a false sense of security. They may end up believing you're a broken little thing that needs to be controlled. Something told Rick Negan wasn't going to be falling for any of that any time soon. 

"Be careful," Negan whispered, walking around Rick, circling him like a shark. "You know how much I hate bruised goods." His boots clicked against the gravel with each step he took. "He seems old... broken... why did you pick this one?" Negan had a type. Desperate. In need. He loved when they would beg for salvation and then once Negan would give it they would be beyond grateful. In a heart beat, his broken little sinners would do anything for him. Hunt. Kill. Protect. Whatever Negan needed they would do. Without knowing it, Negan made them strong little soldiers who knew how to take orders and fight until they either won or died. 

"He was alone." The boy explained, leaning back against the front of the truck. He had his arms crossed over his chest, watching Rick. "I found him at the gas station. He made his car dirty so it would blend in, which was smart, but I'm smarter. He was just finding food and when I got on and had him cornered, he did everything I asked. Not once did he try to fight. And he had a gun and a knife. That was... more proof that he was smart. He did keep rambling on and on about how I was attacking an innocent, but other than that he seemed really good." 

"Are you saving the best for last?" Without missing a beat, Negan took the bat from the man with the scars all across his face. The bat was covered in dried blood and only hovered and inch or two away from Ricks face. "Or did you just know that I missed having a punching bag?" Negan looked down at him and tuvked the edge of the bat beneath Ricks chin, slowly tilting it up. "Sit up..." Negan whispered, licking his lips. "Good boy. Stay kneeling and don't go back on your knees. Taking a break is earned." 

"He's been alone since the beginning. When we first got in the car I asked him if be had family. He said he did, but none that were alive." The boy covered his face so Rick couldn't see his mouth moving. "Lost his boy and his wife." He whispered before dropping his hand. "He said he hopped from camp to camp but never stayed longer than a week and always helped out. Protected the camp. Went out scavenging and hunting. Always pulled his weight." The boy looked at Rick. "At first I didn't want to believe him, but when I checked the car there was nothing. Literally. Just clothing and a few cans of food... and... I think he's telling the truth." 

Negan pursed his lips and nodded, looking down at Rick. He crouched down so that they were eye level, moving the bat closer to Ricks neck. "Smart..." He tilted his head to the side and studied him. "By the number of bruises I'm gonna guess he did a real good job at pissing you off." He cracked a smile and looked up at the boy, nodding. "You know, kid, you're the only one who can get away with shit like this." He grabbed Ricks jaw and dropped the bat, turning his head so that he was facing the boy. "I think we need to make a little... announcement." 

"It's only a few bruises on his face. Its nothing bad. I could've shot him or killed him the way Simon did to all those people. But I didn't." They really must have been close. Carl said Negan wasn't forgiving, so Carl must know Negan wouldn't do shit to him for talking like this. The kid knew how to play the game, Rick had to give him that. "He... he..." Within seconds his face turned from anger to sad, his expression softening. "Negan, he mentioned my dad and my mom..." The kid was manipulative, too. He pushed off of the car and walked towards Negan, dropping down on his knees. He wrapped his arms around Negan and hid his face in his neck. "I just miss them..." 

Negan pulled away and rubbed his face, shaking his head. "God damn it.." He whispered, running his fingers through his hair, slicking it all back once more. "Kid..." He shook his head again, standing up. He gripped Ricks arm now, tugging Rick to his feet as well. "Look, I got Arat looking after Judith. Go in and see her and calm down, okay?" He put his hand on the back of he kids head, pulling him close and kissing his forehead. He let go and everyone watched the boy walk inside. They were silent once he disappeared through this big metal doors. 

The man with the scars picked up Negans bat again, keeping a good distance between them. He held the bat so that his fingers curled around the handle of the bat, the tip of the bat pressing against his dirty combat boots. "I'm surprised you didn't rip him a new one, Negan." He leaned against the car, taking the boys face. Rick could barely stand to look at him. His scars made his stomach hurt. "When Dwight killed all those people you beat him until he couldn't speak for at least a week. I'm pretty sure you broke two of his ribs." The man smiled. It wasn't a devilish grin like Negan. It was a warm smile. 

"Hes only a kid. He lost his daddy and his mommy before the age of fourteen. I had to save him. Dwight has been with me since day one, he knows the rules and he knows what happens when he doesn't listen." Negan pulled Rick towards the doors, looking back at Dwight. "Have them clean out the car and make sure you have Eugene chart all of the supplies, I don't need any of the newbies thinking they can get away with stealing." He jerked open the steel door, shoving Rick inside. "Stop dragging your feet. You ain't no kid, you ain't getting no mercy." 

Rick stumbled into the building, looking around as fast as he could. In his mind he tried to memorize the stairwells that were set up all over the room. Big machines that were collecting dust stood in each corner of the room. The building they used as a home must have been an old factory. It was a good idea, factories are filled with room and even good supplies. They had back up generators for back up generators and stone walls, ceilings, and floors that could withstand any attack imaginable. The windows weren't even a problem considering they stood about twenty feet above the floor, making it impossible for anyone to just break in and climb through the windows and making it impossible for walkers to pile up against them and claw at it until they shatter. 

The entire inside of the building was as gray and colorless as the outside was. The windows were dirty and clear, so unlike a church, the normal sunlight filled the room. Big light bulbs hung from the ceiling, further lighting up the room. On the ground level there seemed to be stations. People sat behind tables with supplies and clip boards. Everyone was dressed in their own form of clothing. Some men wore sweats while others wore jeans. Women wore dresses, skirts, pants and shorts. But there were a few people who wore dirty cream colored clothes with a bright orange letter spray painted on the front. 

"Rostia!" A girl whipped around, grabbing her gun that was clipped to the side of her pants. Once she saw Negan, she relaxed and turned to face him, looking up at him with no fear or annoyance, but only admiration. She saw Negan as a equal. "Bring up Daryl, Carl brought this new guy in and I wanna show him what happens if you don't submit." Rick winced at the name, his stomach tying itself in knots while his heart fluttered. It was pathetic, how just the mention of his sons name tore him apart and gave him hope. Carl must have been the name of the boy who took him hostage. As much as Rick wanted to believe that was his son, it was impossible. His little boy would have never been this hard. Carl always believed in talking before acting. The kid he was with believed in shoot first and ask questions later. That wasn't his son. This was all just some sick, painful coincidence. 

Rosita nodded before disappearing down one of the hallways. It took a couple of minutes before dragging a man out by the chains that held his arms behind his back. "Walk!" She shouted. "Do you want to get cut again!?" The man she was dragging behind her had thin, tangled black hair, and sweat stains covered his shirt. He had part of a beard, but it was hard to tell with his hair covering his face. He was silent as Rosita pulled him along, Rick didn't think he was broken, though, Rick just thought he was ashamed. It was humiliating being drug around. The people knew that, Negan and Carl, even Rostia, that's why they did it. It proved power.

She pulled him up the metal stairs, her boots clicking against the metal as if they were the high heels his wife used to wear for church every Sunday. Daryls knees slammed into every stair, Rosita pulling him back on the ground before he could pull himself up. He wore a snarl on his face, his eyes were thin as he shot bullets at Negan with his glare. Rick always heard the saying "if looks could kill, the man would be dead" but Daryl changed the entire meaning for Rick. He looked like a caged animal, just waiting to snap. Rick didn't want to be there when he did. Rosita dropped Daryl onto the ground at Negan and Ricks feet. He collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving.

"This is Daryl." Negan said all too cheerful, like he was enjoying this. "Got him the same time I got Rosita and Carl. Their camp was set up a few hours from here and they killed a bunch of my men. Daryl killed a bunch of my men." Negan grabbed Daryl by the hair and forced him to look up. "So I hunt them down after I lost about fifty men. Killed one of them after telling them all not to move. Most of them were good, like Rosita over here, she just sat and sobbed. Daryl and Carl, though, they misbehaved. Daryl got up and punched me and while I was on the ground, Carl climbed on top of me and tried to stab me." 

"You killed our friend!" Daryl snapped, tugging his head away from Negan, only to be pulled back by the tight grip he had on his hair. His voice was hoarse, it sounded almost painful to speak. "He was just a kid! He didn't deserve what you did!" Rosita punched him in the head, kicking him in the stomach. The words Daryl had in the back of his throat were replaced with sharp grunts as Rosita shut him up. 

"Now, Daryl and Carl got punished in very, very different ways." Negan grinned. "I didn't kill them, you don't kill strong people like that. You break them." He turned and looked at Rick, his smile only growing. Rick wanted to throw up. "I told them all to sit still. They could scream and cry, but they could not move. Told them I would cut the kids eye out and make him eat it." Negan chuckled when he saw how horrified Rick looked. "Kid did it, like a real champ. Barely even screamed when I cut it out. And like that-" Negan snapped. "He was submissive. Been my right hand man for two years. But Daryl.." He shook his head. "Daryl was different."

"He killed Michonne," Rosita cut in. "The only thing Carl had really. He had us but... Michonne was different. She was his best friend and kind of a... mother figure." She shrugged. "Daryl loved Carl, had been with him since the beginning, so... Negan killed Michonne, just so Daryl could know that it was his fault the kid lost everything all over again." She ran her fingers through Daryls hair, smiling when Daryl jerked away. "He's still not broken, but we aren't the type to give up when it gets hard." 

"Thanks, darling." Negan smiled, looking over at Rick. Rick was shaking, his head spinning. The room was fading in and out of focus and his legs felt weak. Negan was beyond sick. He was beyond evil, too. Carls life was already falling apart and Negan took it as an opportunity to ruin him even more. No wonder the kid had so many walls built up, each time he let them down he was somehow punished. "I think our friend gets the idea." Negan grabbed onto Ricks arm again and guided him towards a hallway. "Oh, and Daryl?" 

The man jerked around in Rositas grip, looking up at Negan. "What?" He hissed, pulling at her hold. He was shaking in anger, Rick admired that somehow he still wanted to fight Negan even with no chance of winning. Maybe Daryl knew he couldn't win. Maybe he just wanted to push Negan far enough so that Negan finally kills him. 

"Carl blames you." Negan smiled wide, walking further down the platform, stopping right above two metal doors that lead outside. Beneath them men and women carried boxes in and out, checking in with one man and one woman who sat behind a desk with clip boards in hand. "Glenn! Maggie!" The two holding the clip boards looked up at him. 

"Yeah?" Glenn asked, standing up. "Is there a problem, sir?" He put his hand over Maggie's as if to comfort her. The fear in their eyes wasn't as noticeable as it was in the others. Negan liked them, didn't punish them or keep them on a tight leash, but they still feared him. 

"No. Just wanted to make sure everyone was being good. Nothing has gone missing, correct?" Negan leaned over the edge of the railing and for a split second Rick wanted to just shove him over. If they were higher up Rick would have. No one enjoyed living underneath this man's power. But if the fall didn't kill Negan, Rick would be beyond fucked. This man didn't make exceptions, not unless you were Carl. 

"No," The woman, Maggie, replied with a smile. "It's all okay. Everyone's been pretty good. And don't worry..." She looked down at her hip, pulling out her gun. "I know what to do if anyone tries anything." Her smile faltered as she sat back down and turned away from Negan. Both of them squirmed beneath Negans gaze. 

"Good." Negan stood up straight and walked towards the hallway, stepping inside. "Follow me." He smirked, somehow knowing without even looking that Rick was going to follow. "We need to talk. Have formal introductions. Lay down the rules." Negan turned and pushed a door open, holding it open for Rick. "Walk up this flight of stairs, then the next. I'll be right behind you and I got a big bat and a gun. I wouldn't try anything."

Rick stumbled into the stairwell, looking around. Small windows were the only source of light inside and Ricks pounding headache only made it harder to see. He was still dizzy, unable to get the image of that poor kid being forced to do those things out of his mind. How could Negan pity the child and spare him while doing those horrible things? He was only a child, a child who lost his dad and killed his mom then saw everyone else he love die or turn into someone they weren't. Rick understood why the kid was the way he was. What he didn't understand is why the kid loved Negan? 

"Walk!" Negan shouted. "Don't make me ask you again." He shoved Rick forward, causing him to stumble up the first few stairs. Rick continued to walk, forcing down the vomit that was creeping up his throat. By the time they made it to the top of the stairs, Ricks entire body was shaking. Negan slammed him against the wall, pulling the door open. He gripped Rick by the shoulder and shoved him into the hallway. "Go left and keep going." He closed the door behind them, following Rick down the hall. There was a series of rooms, each door labeled with something else. Until they got to the last room. "Carl! Open up!" 

As if Carl was waiting on them, almost immediately the door opened. In his arms was a small baby girl, only three or four years old. She had curly blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. It was easy to tell that they were siblings. A throb of pain filled Ricks heart as he looked at them. He would give anything just to see his son again. To hold him and tell him he loved him. "Get inside."

Rick looked up at Carl, freezing when he saw his bandage. Rick fell to his knees and began to vomit, his entire body lurching forward each time. Not much came out, it was mostly gagging. He shook his head, panting as he breathed. He fell to the side, leaning against the door frame. 

"Jesus Christ." Carl backed away, shaking his head. "Call Daryl or something and have him clean that shit up." He set Judith down on the bed, grabbing a walkie talkie and tossing it to Negan. Negan switched it on and walked a few feet away, talking to one of the guards. Carl picked up and towel and poured some water on it before walking over to Rick. He stepped around the puddle of vomit and knelt down on the floor. He cupped Ricks cheek and wiped his mouth off before handing him some water. "Drink it slowly.." He rubbed Ricks head then his back. "You're okay."


	4. Chapter 4

Rick sat on the couch, Carl and Negan sat in the two chairs in front of him. His hands were bound behind his back still, but with rope instead of cuffs. Carl didn't know they were cutting his skin, so he sent someone to get the rope. Daryl was still cleaning the floor, the vomit was gone and so was the smell, but Negan wanted it to "shine in the light" so with Rosita watching, Daryl continued to mop and shine the floor. Rick felt bad for both of them, Daryl and Rosita. They used to be friends, but in order to survive they had to detach themselves from one another and make up entirely new personalities. Rick looked around the room before looking back at them. On the side of Daryls neck was a butterfly tattoo, the same tattoo was on Rositas hand. Rick didn't know it was possible to feel any more bad for them. 

A loud thud made Rick jump. He whipped around and looked at Negan with wide eyes. Negan had swung his bat and hit it against the table, causing himself to grin and Carl to smirk. Rick wondered if the kid was always this cold, if he was always just a little off and Negan brought it out. Rick didn't like believing bad was born into the earth, only created. Carl went bad when Negan hurt him, when he had no one else to live and be perfect for. Or maybe this was an act, Carl just had to be hard so Negan wouldn't be angry. Negan was powerful, he controlled the entire thing, even Carl, so it wasn't hard to believe there was a real Carl, then the kid Negan talked to on a day to day basis. 

Judith was on the floor, rolling aroind plastic cars and tossing around dolls. The child was going to grow up with this being normal. With a man who tore people apart and a kid who followed in his foot steps. She wouldn't know any different. The groaning walkers out front would be normal too. Killing them and working with Negan would feel natural, like second nature. Rick pitied her, but he was also jealous. She would never see the normal life she could have, but she would also never miss the normal life she would've had. It was better that way, memories were dangerous. 

"Eyes on me," Negan lifted the bat and leaned it against the chair, crossing his legs. He folded his hands together and looked at Rick. It felt like Negan was looking through him, somehow soaking up all the pain. What happened to Negan to make him this way? Who did he loss? What did someone take from him? His innocence? His strength? Did he lose a partner or child? Something had to have happened to make him this guarded and cold. Something to make him this systematic and controlling. Like Rick always believed, bad was always created, Negan wasn't born like this. But that didn't mean Rick couldn't hate him. "Carl tells me you've always been alone, that you never had anyone with you, or no sign of anyone." 

"Yes," Rick nodded. He looked down at his lap, spreading his legs. Being under Negans gaze was intimidating. He felt like Negan could see all the bad things he's done, all the mistakes his made and the things he's lost. Part of Rick wanted to be like that, to be able to read people. He understood the people that admired Negan. The power was beautiful, anyone who had been weak and controlled would crave it, even Rick. That was what Rick hated most about himself. He wasn't the saint he always tried to be, no matter how hard he worked, he could never stop making mistakes. "My wife and son... they... I don't know where they are. I woke up from a coma and all of this was happening-" 

"Is this guy serious?" Negan shook his head, laughing. He turned and looked at Carl, his laugh stopping for a moment. He breathed heavily. "Carl.." Negan chuckled. He was breathless. "You can't believe this guy? I mean come on, waking up from a coma and the dead have taken over? That's so fucking stupid. This isn't some comic book." He slapped Carls arm. "Hey." His entire tone had changed. "Don't be weak, that's the rule when we talk to people. Don't buy into their sob stories, we need to survive, too." Carl had yet to turn and look at Negan, his eye was trained on Rick, and it was wide open. 

"Just... just let him talk, okay?" Carl put his hand over Negans, intertwining their fingers. Rick didn't see their tattoos on them, they must've been on their hips or legs. Most people are lucky enough to have their soulmate tattoo a place where anyone can see. It makes it easier to find people. Rick hoped that they weren't soulmates, the kid deserved better than a man who traumatized him into submission. "I just... I wanna know.." Carl looked down, sighing.

"Darling," Negan was talking softly. "It's not him." He whispered, cupping Carls cheek. "I know you want every man I bring in here to be him, but... if your daddy was still in the hosptial when this began, the zombies probably got him." Negan kissed Carls head before pulling away. "You probably already know that he lost his dad. Family friend said that he was dead but... Carl likes to get his hopes up."

It was easy to see Carl was building his walls back up. The softness of his features slowly hardened, his eye going from gentle and studying to hard and gazing. You could almost see the sharp edges that were eager to poke you if you got too close. "Stop talking about me like I'm a child. I'm sixteen and I've seen and done more shit than you ever have." Carl stood up, walking past Negan towards the bed. "You're just a fucking asshole who likes to pretend I'm somehow below you because I actually feel things." 

Negan looked at Rick, rolling his eyes. "Girls, you know how they get." Negan stood up, walking around Judith. He wrapped his arms around Carls waist, kissing his cheek. His hand was large compared to Carls hip, a silver ring standing out on his ring finger. They were married, Rick thought, or as married as two people can be in the apocalypse. "Baby, I'm sorry..." Negan whispered, kissing Carls neck. "I'm an asshole, you know that... but I'm sorry. I know talking about Rick is a touchy... its a touchy thing." 

Rick looked up. He wanted to speak, ask them how he knew his name, but he also didn't want to get in the middle of their fight. He saw how both sides could be when angry and getting in between It would only mean a world of pain and hurt. He squirmed in his seat, looking down at Judith. She seemed happy and fed. She wore a pretty blue dress and no shoes. Her blonde curly hair was pulled back into a pony tail, but there were loose curls framing her face. Her blue eyes were what really gave away her and Carl being siblings. 

"Yeah," Carl sounded pissed. "It is. He was my fucking father, Negan, not everyone can just push their emotions away like you do." He pressed back against Negans chest, relaxing. He closed his eyes and hummed, swaying side to side with Negan. "And you are an asshole. The biggest one I know." He twisted around in his grip, wrapping his arms around Negans neck. His words were filled with love. Rick ached for someone to talk to him like that. "You're lucky I love you." 

"I know I am." Negan kissed Carl gently, sliding his hands down into the boys back pockets. He continued to kiss Carl, connecting their lips after each time Carl pulled away to breath. "M lucky you married me... my pretty little wife." Carl slapped his arm for that. Rick would have too. "Forgive me?" He whispered, pressing their foreheads together. As much as Rick hated to admit it, Negan looked at Carl with love, the kind of love you can't take and are jealous of. At least the kid was getting the love he deserved. 

"Yeah..." Carl nodded, looking down at their feet. "Yeah, I forgive you." He stood up on his toes and kissed Negan harder than before. Negan stumbled back some, grabbing the boys hips so he could stand up once again. "Don't I always?" Carl smiled, brushing their lips across each other's once more. He pulled away and walked back to the chairs, sitting down. "So... you've been alone the entire time because you didn't have wives. You're obviously well fed, you hop from camp to camp?" 

Rick nodded. He felt like he was just repeating himself, but if he was in their position he would continue to grill them. You could never be too safe. They spend so much time around the walkers its easy to forget how bad real people can be. "Always pulled my weight, but I never stayed for more than a month. Wanted to find my wife and kid. It seems pointless but... that's what's keeping me going." Rick leaned back against the couch, crossing his legs. His wrists ached, but Carl cleaned the wounds and bandaged them, so they didn't hurt as bad as they had been. "I don't want to stay with people who aren't my family." 

"You'll have to learn how to make them your family then." Carl sounded as if he was challenging Rick, but he was only telling him how it would be. In a world like this, you don't get to pick and choose who helps you and who you stay with. Rick was dumb always moving, but he felt like he was cheating on his family if he didn't continue to try and find them. "Family isn't just DNA." He continued. "You're lucky so many people took you in... then again, you are an ex cop, you know how to get people to do what you want them to." It was supposed to be a compliment but all it was really, was an insult. He was calling Rick a manipulator. All Rick thought was that there were many reasons he wasn't a saint. 

"What's your name?" Negan asked. Rick was surprised he didn't begin with that, then again, Negan wasn't the type to sugar coat things or really be polite. He got to the point and he didn't care who he upset to get there. He leaned back in he seat and looked at Rick, wondering if he was going to lie. It would be easy to lie about your name, but lies add up. Another reason he wasn't a saint. Rick wasn't ashamed of who he was though, only things he had done. When it's added all together, Ricks a pretty good guy, but good guys don't forgive the mistakes they've made.

"Rick.." Rick whispered. He was afraid, he really was. If Negan or Carl didn't get to him, someone else could. In order to follow Negan you either had to be like him or be a very good actor. And sometimes the lines between the real you and the fake you are blurred. "Rick Grimes." He looked up at them, frowning when he saw that they were both staring, silently. He never thought that the one thing that would shut Negan up would be his name. "What?" It was a mistake speaking when he wasn't spoken to. 

In one swift motion, Carl stood up, the chair he was sitting in falling back and thudding against the ground. He pulled his gun out and aimed it right between Ricks eyes. "Get Judith out of here," Carl snarled. It was all too easy for a kid this young to be this angry. "I don't want her to have to see this." Without speaking, Negan scooped the girl up and walked out, ushering Rostia and Daryl away from the door. He shut the door behind them, leaving Carl and Rick alone. If Negan was afraid, Rick knew he was fucked. "How the hell do you know his name?" 

"What?" Rick whispered. "I... that's my name." Rick didn't want to die, not like this, at the wrong end of a gun held by a kid who has had too many bad things happen. Rick didn't want to die. "Please," He begged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not lying... if... if you want proof I have my wallet... I got my drivers license in there from before..." Before things like this became normal. "Before the world fell apart. It's got my photo and everything. Even pictures of me with my family." He was shaking and he couldn't breathe. 

With the gun still aimed at Rick, Carl stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He flicked it open, sun catching in he blade and nearly blinding Rick. "Lean forward-" Carl seemed annoyed when Rick began to shake even more. "I'm not gonna kill you, I'm gonna cut the ropes, Jesus Christ." He grabbed Rick by the hair and yanked him forward, cutting the ropes with one slice. He let go of Rick and backed up, closing his knife. He lowered his gun some. "Don't try anything and if you do... make sure I'm dead, because if I'm not, I'm gonna be pissed." 

With shaking hands, Rick slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. It was worn out, the fake leather peeling off only to reveal the gray cloth that held the waller together. He didn't bother opening it, he just hung his head low and handed Carl the wallet. "Here. There's credit cars and family photos and my old drivers license... a knife isn't gonna pop out and cut you." He was walking on thin ice, but there was also a gun three feet from his face, so the ice was going to break one way or another. 

Carl grabbed the wallet from his hand without speaking. He flipped it open after stuffing his gun into his pocket. The boy must be able to read Rick if he knew that Rick wasn't going to take a chance and kill him. He stayed silent as he flipped past the credit cards and got to the photos. Carls hands began to shake as he flipped through each one, spending a minute studying each. Why was this so surprising? Was he that shocked Rick wasn't lying? Lastly, Carl pulled out Ricks drivers license and looked down at it, smiling some. He looked sad. 

Carl took a deep breath, looking between the wallet and Rick. The wallet fell from Carls shaking hands, a tear sliding down his cheek at the same time. He wiped it away, quickly, taking another deep breath. "This can't be happening.." He whispered. The license was still in his band. He shook his head, "This isn't happening." He whispered. 

"See?" Rick mumbled. He wasn't sure why the boy was freaking out but he wasn't in the mood to stay. The kid was dangerous and unpredictable and had a knife and gun. Spending any more time with him than needed seemed terrifying. "I'm really who I am..." He reached down and picked up the wallet, stopping when two arms wrapped around his torso and a face was buried in his neck. Carl was sobbing now, gripping Rick painfully hard. "Wha-" 

Carl was breathing heavy, shaking his head against Ricks shoulder. "Shut up." He panted, sliding his hands through Ricks hair. He pulled away and looked down at Ricks license photo then up at Rick. 

"What?" Rick asked. He was afraid, but not only of Carl. He couldn't even imagine what Negan would do if he walked in and saw Rick with a sobbing Carl in his arms. "Kid..." He whispered. "What's wrong? Are you oka-"

"Dad." One word spilled from Carls mouth. Rick felt his heart swell and burst. Within seconds he was crying with Carl, gripping the boy like he was going to disappear. It already happened once, Rick was never letting go again. "Dad."


	5. Chapter 5

Carl stayed in Ricks lap, face hidden in his neck, nails digging into his shoulders. He was crying but he didn't make any noise. Under Ricks arms and against his chest Carl just shook. Every once in a while he would take a shaky breath and wipe his eyes, but that was it. They stayed like that, clinging to each other. It almost felt as if everything was okay again. Rick was with his son, the one thing he wanted. Carl was safe and alive and there. This was all Rick wanted, this is what he begged for when he prayed to whatever god was listening. 

"Carl..." Rick whispered, pulling his son closer. "My boy... you're okay." He kissed his forehead, pressing his lips to a combination of warm skin and bandages. "He..." Negan cut Carls eye out and made him eat it. Negan touched his son. Rick gripped Carl so hard it must have hurt, but if it did Carl didn't say anything. "I'm gonna kill him..." Within seconds Carl fell back against the couch while Rick stood up, grabbing all of Carls weapons. Gun. Knife. Even a second knife that was out in the open. "Don't come outside no matter what you hear." 

Carl grabbed Rick by the wrist and pulled him back. "Dad, dad, hey..." He stepped in front of Rick, smiling. "Look at me, okay? Look at me. Don't..." Carl closed his eye before opening it and looking up at Rick. "Dad, I've seen it all. I know its bad... I've seen bad and I've done it. You... you can't protect me anymore." He kissed Ricks cheek and cupped his face like Carl was six years old again and Rick was crying over another dumb fight. "Don't leave me again... I... Dad, I can't lose you. I won't lose you." His fingers curled around the gun Rick gripped and pulled it away. "Please, just sit down..." 

Rick looked down at his son, nodding. "What made you..." The idea of anything bad happening to Carl made Rick sick. He didn't want to know, but a small part of him did. He wanted to hear the horror that happened when he wasn't there as punishment. How it felt to have Negan scoop his eye out and how it felt to choke it down while shaking and crying. Rick closed his eyes and shook his head. "Carl, he is... he isn't good. This isn't the time to date some guy to spite me. This is... this is life or death. It's serio-"

"I shot mom." Carl was looking down at he ground. The flannel he wore was big on him, swallowing him whole. His shoes were too small and torn up. His jeans clung to his hips but fell loose around his legs. "She got pregnant... and she had to have me by C-section. The man who was supposed to do it was bit and... she wanted to save the baby. Maggie, the woman in charge of supplies, cut her open and got Judith out. She wasn't going to make it so... she had already passed out from blood loss so... so I kissed her head and shot her. I didn't want the disease getting her," Tears fell from his cheeks. He looked like a child again. "I'm sorry, daddy." 

Sorry wasn't what Carl should be saying, not under thos circumstance. Sorry is what little boys say when they do something they aren't supposed to, like stay up too late or steal some candy from the store. Sorry should not spill from his sons soft pink lips only moments after telling his dad that he killed his mom, his wife. Rick nodded, looking at Carl. There wasn't much to say. His boy had to grow up too fast. His boy had to either watch his mom die or be the one to kill her. In a twisted way, Rick would have done the same. Watching the person you love suffer is more painful than pulling a trigger. 

"Don't be sorry..." Rick curled his fingers around the back of Carls neck and pulled him into his chest. He kissed his cheek and held him close, swaying them back and forth as if Carl was a toddler again and Rick was rocking him to sleep. "You didn't do anything wrong. I don't hate you. I'm not angry... I just need you to know that." The idea of Carl beating himself up for killing his mother made Ricks knees weak in all the wrong ways. "I'm glad I still got you. I need you, Carl. More than anyone or anything else. You... you and only you made me survive this." 

"Shane said you were dead..." Soft fingertips bumped against Ricks jaw. Warm hands slid across his neck and up through his hair. "Said he listened for a heartbeat and got nothing. Said you told him to protect us." If Rick knew anything about Shane it was that he would never let anyone hurt Carl. That included Negan. If Shane were alive, Negan would be dead. Probably would have his head mounted on the wall. "I... daddy, I killed him too. He started hurting mom and I just... I was the only one who could protect her, not Shane-" Carl was sobbing now. Gasping for air and clinging to Rick as if he was drowning. "He kept telling me you were dead. I used to pray to the angels and ask for you to bring them back but he told me there were no angels and that you were probably a walker." 

Shane should be thankful he was dead because if he was alive Rick would kill him. Beat him until he was black and blue then shoot him the way people shoot the death row victims in prison. No one touched his family and no one touched Carl. That was his boy, it was dangerous to think about what lengths Rick would go to for his son. Rick would kill a man without a second thought if he was dangerous to Carl or even upset Carl. Rick was there now, and he wasn't going to let anything hurt Carl again. Rick would rather die than let anyone near his son. It was impossible to tell who was good and who wasn't. Carl obviously had the lines blurred, sleeping with Negan. Rick would just have to open his eyes. 

"Sh," Rick whispered against his hair. "Carl, I'm gonna need you to calm down for me." He pulled away and wiped at all the tears that decorated Carls red cheeks. He kissed his forehead and smiled some. "I'm here now, okay? You," he took a deep breath, "You don't have to be a man anymore, Carl. You can be a kid... you... you don't gotta carry the world on your shoulders anymore. I got it." Carl was shaking but he was no longer sobbing. Rick was thankful, he didn't know how much more heart break he could take. 

"I got your hat..." The hat Carl would steal and run around the house with. The hat Carl never failed to take to show and tell just to brag. "Negan thought it was stupid but I thought it was sweet." He pulled away and walked towards the corner of the room. Hanging from a long nail that was halfway stuck in the wall was his hat. The badge was missing, but other than that it was normal. No blood stains or tears. "Took good care of it just like you always told me to... for a while... god, for a while I used to think if I made it dirty or fucked-"

"Language." Rick was smiling for the first time in a long time. He walked towards Carl, snaking his arms around his sons waist and pulling him close. "I'm glad I get to say that again. Used to do it to all the kids at the camps... but it's not the same when it's not your kid." He felt Carl pull away when Rick mentioned the other kids. "I didn't... Carl?" Rick pulled him back, turning him around. "Buddy, I didn't replace you with all those other kids-" 

Carl jerked away and picked up the hat, ignoring almost everything Rick had said. "I... I used to think if I messed the hat up you would find us. Give me a lecture on how it's an important part of the uniform and how it could never, ever be disrespected." He turned around and walked towards Rick, setting the hat on top of his head. He smiled, tilting his head to the side. "I always saw mom do that... it's nice to be the one finally doing it." Carl pulled awa6 and looked at his dad, smiling even wider. "I can almost pretend it's normal..."

"I don't care." Rick mumbled, looking past Carl at the mirror that was mounted on the wall. He had changed. More scars. A beard instead of being clean shaven. His hair was long. "I don't care what world we're in. As long as I got you-" He pulled his son into his side and looked at them in the mirror. Rick may have missed eight years of his sons life, but he still loved Carl nonetheless. Even if the man his boy turned into wasn't a man he recognized. "Doesn't matter the world as long as I've got you. You keep me together." 

Carl rested his head on Ricks shoulder, sighing. "I didn't... I didn't mean all the stuff I said. And the stuff I did. I..." He buried his face in Ricks shoulder. "I didn't want to kill you or hurt you. God. What if I had killed you?" Carl reached up and pressed his hand over Ricks heart, smiling to himself. A heartbeat. Carl pulled away and slipped his hand underneath Ricks shirt. His skin felt hot under Carls touch causing him to jump and jerk away. "Dad?" Carl looked hurt by it, by the fact that Rick all but ripped himself out of Carls grip. "Dad, what did I do? I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" Carl grabbed the edge of his shirt and lifted it only to have Rick push it back down. Carl pulled his hands away, looking up at Rick with a wide eye filled with tears. He looked like a scared little boy. "I'm sorry..." 

Ricks heart broke. "You didn't do anything wrong," He was thankful Carl was acting this way. Showing his emotions like a child, because thats what he was. A child who had seen the ugliest parts of the world all alone, but still a child. "Just startled me... that's all..." Rick walked towards Carl again, stepping in front of him. "I'm sorry if I startled you," Yelling always scared Carl. Rick wondered how Carl dealt with all the yelling that came from Negan. How was his son tolerating it? "You wanna feel my heartbeat?" Rick smiled down at Carl, cupping his cheek. "You can." 

Rick almost forgot how wrapped around his finger Carl had him. Carl was sweet. Bubblegum pink lips and baby blue eyes... eye. Long brown hair only managed to tighten Carls grip on him. Carl had Rick wrapped around his finger from the day he was born. He was lucky Carl wasn't the child to want extravagant things, because if Carl would've cupped his cheeks and asked Rick for a pony there would already be a stable getting built in their backyard. Carl always made his heart swell and burst with love. The years didn't change it, if anything it made the feelings stronger. Rick ached to spend time with Carl again. To learn all the new things about him and get filled in from all the pieces he had missed. 

Rick was grateful Carl hadn't grown taller than him. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing his boy be officially a man. It tore him up inside that Carl had to man up before he was a teenager. Killing his mom and Shane? Thinking he had lost Rick for good? Dealing with dead people coming to life and killing everything around him? Eating his own eye in front of his family? Only naming a few of the horrors Carl lived through made Rick dizzy with anger. Negan was lucky Carl sent him out. If he had still been in there Rick would've shot him point blank without a second thought. 

"I'm sorry," Carl whispered. "When I was thirteen.... this... this group found us and one..." he took a deep breath. "One raped me... in front of everyone and I'm just so terrified of becoming like him." Rick needed to hold it together but all he wanted to do was sob and tell his son that there wasn't an evil bone in his body. "And now I'm dumping all of this onto you," he shook his head. "You're my dad but yovue dealt with shit, too. I just need to man up." He forced a smile and went to touch Rick, only to have Rick take his hand and hold it. "Wha-" 

"You'll never be like that man, Carl. And if I had the option I would rip his throat out with my teeth because no one touches you like that, no one." Rick was shaking. Not in fear or sadness, but in anger. He balled his fist up before unballing it and pressing it to his thigh. The smile that spread across Carls face was scary, then again, the boy was probably a little off his rocker. He killed the two people he loved the most, that messes with your head. Rick decided in that moment, no matter how many bones in Carls body were good or bad, that he would trust and follow his boy no matter what. "I'll kill 'em, Carl," The boy looked all too excited. "I got you now and I ain't letting nothing happen to you." 

Carl nodded, moving closer to Rick. It was tempting to pull Carl into another hug, wrap his arms around him and tuck his head underneath his chin and just protect him. His sons hands crept beneath his shirt, long fingers spreading out so he could touch every inch of Ricks too tan skin. He slid his hands higher, moving even closer to Rick. Rick held back his shuddering breath when Carls finger tips brushed against his nipples. One hand slid back down to his abdomen while the other pressed against his heart, staying there. Carl looked focused as he felt his father's heartbeat, as if he was allowing himself to truly believe Rick was back and okay and alive. 

"I want to see the scar," There was a chill in Carls voice. "Wanna see the mark that almost took you away from me." He backed up, chewing on his lower lip. He watched Rick as he slowly stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Rick wondered if his son could see the gears turning in his mind. Rick made up excuse after excuse as to why Carl would find reasons to touch him. Carl was messed up, thos world was, too, and Rick was in no place to question how someone coped. Or the morals someone had. Carl gasped as he watched Rick, as if it was the first man he had ever seen. It gave Rick a sick sense of pride, but so did killing the enemy whether they be living or dead. 

"Guess we both got scars from when we weren't there to protect each other." Carl pushed up the edge of his bandages only showing a little bit of scarred skin. Rick hoped one day Carl would let Rick see his socket. Let him kiss it and tell him that Carl was still his beautiful boy no matter what. Carl reached out and rubbed his thumb across the scar, sighing. "Funny how a bullet took you out but walking dead people didn't." Carl laughed, his eyes still locked on the scar. "M gonna have to feel this every day, remind myself you're here." 

Carl stood in front of him, red cheeked and shy. He didn't give Rick a chance to speak. "I was shot, too. Told mom that I finally had something in common with you. She told me she rather hear about us having the same eyes." Carl grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it behind him. On his stomach under his rib cage was a small scar almost the same as Ricks. "Family tradition." He grinned. 

Rick smiled, laughing a little. It felt good to feel happy. To feel safe. To be able to exist without having to look over your shoulder every few minutes. "We do have the same eyes..." Rick reached down and brushed his fingers against Carls scar, his eye almost immediately locking on the small black shape on his hip. Rick gasped and pulled away, clearing his throat. "Not gonna let you get shot again," Rick tried to play it off, eyes still glued to the soulmate mark. The tattoo thay matched his all too closely. It had to be a mistake.

Carl looked down at his hip with a proud smile on his face. "Yeah," He grinned. "My mark came in three years ago but it doesn't really matter. No one looks for soulmates anymore. We're all too focused on surviving to worry about being happy." Carl picked his shirt up and kissed Ricks cheek. "But being happy won't be too hard now that you're here." Carl pulled his shirt on and pulled his hair out from underneath it. "Negan makes me happy, too. So I don't think the mark really matters anymore."

Rick didn't reply. He was too busy picking through his brain. Was he happy Carl had someone? Someone that fed him and protected him? Someone that wasn't his father? Or was he jealous that Negan was able to be with his soulmate and he wasn't? Rick shook his head, pushing away the thoughts. He wasn't jealous about Negan having his son because he doesn't want Carl that way at all. He's just over protective and the tattoo just had a small difference Rick didn't see. There was no way the soulmate he spent twenty years looking for was his sixteen year old son. 

"You okay, dad?" Carls face was scrunched up and confused. It reminded Rick of how his son used to look when he tried to do math or English. Carl was never really a school kid. He tried his best and made good grades, but he was never one for focusing on something for too long. 

"Yeah," Rick forced a smile. "Fine."


	6. Chapter 6

Carl moved through the room, pointing at random objects and explaining why they were important. When he was younger, Carl would always do things like this. He was very excitable and he always took care of his toys. For hours, Carl would go from wall to wall, picking up and showing Rick anything he adored. Lori always said he was too preoccupied by the objects, that owning too much would be his downfall once he was older. Rick always disagreed. Loving those things made him human. And thankfully, it kept him human too. With each object, Carls face would light up with a different shade of joy as he began to explain how he got it and why he kept it. 

Rick followed him around the room, more focused on the happiness that shined out of him than what he was actually saying. Carl had one bullet from when he was shot the second time. It was in his arm, a small graze really, but big enough for there to be a scar. Carl said as soon as he realized what happened he rolled over and grabbed the bullet. Said that he was gonna start a collection of all the things that tried to kill him then failed. A darker part of Ricks mind wondered how many people would be put in Carls collection. But his son wasn't that evil. His son wasn't Negan. 

"So..." Rick cut Carl off before he could start telling the story of how he found a slow globe for Atlanta, Georgia and how he kept it from when the apocalypse began to now. "You and Negan don't have matching tattoos? The same way your mom and I didn't?" Most people who found their soulmate were happy. The tattoo wasn't the reason they were happy, though. They just let the tattoo rule how they handled fights with their soulmate verses anyone else. It was rare that soulmates relationships failed, but it wasn't unheard of. 

"Yeah," Carl nodded, shrugging. "He has a knife tattoo. But he said he would never listen to it. His first wife, the one his bat is named after-" Christ, Rick thought. Could Negan get any more crazy? Carl smiled at his reaction. He must have been making a face. "They weren't soulmates. She had a shark tooth tattoo. They were happy for the most part but..." Carl shrugged once more. "Being in a relationship with someone for a long time is tiring. Especially when they don't do what you want. He had a mistress, but I'm not surprised. He's not one to be tied down." 

"But he lets you tie him down?" Rick asked, peering out the window. Men were outside, feeding the zombies that were chained to the gate. "You the exception or something?" Rick knew Carl wasn't stupid. Carl had to know that Negan wasn't going to let some sixteen year old change him. Negan shouldn't even be with Carl, but Rick wasn't going to bring it up yet. He didn't have room to either, especially considering his son was his soulmate. Rick was going to take that to the grave, though. As long as Negan treats Carl good, that can be Carls husband. It'll make him happy. Rick wasn't here to ruin everyrhing he built, anyway. He was just there for his son. 

"His crazy matches mine, that's all. He hasn't cheated since he beginning of it all..." Carl looked up at his dad, chewing on his lip. "We've been together for two years." Rick wanted to vomit. His son had been with a grown man since he was fourteen. "And we make it work. Together we've fixed this place. We still have a ways to go but-" He turned and looked out the window smiling proudly. "We save people. We're the saviors, dad. I help people the same way you always did." Carl was obsessed with being like his dad and saving people when he was younger. It was heartwarming knowing his son still wanted to be like him. "Plus, we're happier than you and mom were." 

Rick nodded, looking down at his son. It was complicated. Beyond complicated. They hadn't seen each other in eight years, they had things to talk about. They also had matching tattoos, which made Rick even more conscious of all of his movements. His tattoo was on his thigh, which meant no changing around Carl. "I'm glad," Rick lied. He was good at it. "I'm glad you got someone who protected you and made you feel loved. I'm glad... I'm glad he saved you when I couldn't." 

"I think you two will get along." Carl mumbled, taking Ricks hands in his own. "You both love me and you both want to keep me alive. That's a start." His smile shined brighter than the sun. "Plus, Negan knows how to make things work and you're... you. You know how to make a real society again." He gripped Ricks hands, intertwining their fingers. "Come on, dad. I know it started off bad but-"

"It started off bad with you kidnapping me then bringing me to him like I was some present." Carl flinched at Ricks yelling. "Then he told me how fucking sick he was. Killing your mother figure? After you already lost Shane and your mother? Cutting your eye out and making you eat it? Carl. He is bad. I can be civil if its needed but I..." He shook his head. "I can't lie! I hate him, Carl. Not even because he's twice, maybe almost three times your age, but also because he fucking hurt you!" 

"So..." Carl was staring at the ground, his hair falling over his face. "When you said you were happy someone protected me, someone saved me, you were lying?" Carl didn't seem angry with Ricks lies. More sad. The boy hasn't seen his father in eight years and once they meet up one of the first things that happens is he upsets him? It made Carls stomach tie in knots. He played with the hem of the shirt he was wearing, rocking back and forth on his feet like an impatient child.

"You survived. You didn't need him." Rick cupped the back of Carls neck and pulled Carl onto his chest. He kissed the top of his head and held Carl tight. "You saved yourself. You... you don't owe him, Carl." He continued to hold Carl as he spoke. "I understand you think it's love and you think that you're the special one but... Carl, this isn't okay. He's bad. He traumatized you-" 

"He made me stronger." Carl tore away from his grip, shaking his head. "He taught me that I can only depend on myself. I love him and he loves me-" 

"What about me?" Rick had always been terrified of fighting with Carl. He was scared of Carl hating him during his rebellious phase. Rick never thought that he would be arguing with his son over this. "What about me, Carl? I raised you. I loved you." It felt like he was fighting with Lori, but it felt a million times more painful. Rick focused on keeping his voice calm as he spoke. He cupped Carls cheek, dropping his hand when Carl shoved it away. "I... I'm here. And I love you." 

"I raised myself." Carl whispered. "I was alone, you were gone and Shane and Lori couldn't give a shit. I did this. I fought, bloody and afraid, to make it here. Negan didn't traumatize me, I was already traumatized. I was raped and beaten and attacked, but Negan? Negan reminded me why I did this. When he cut my eye out and made me eat it, I fucking remembered why I was hard on the outside. So people like him didn't force me around. I am strong." He was inches from Ricks face. "And I did that shit my fucking self." He leaned closer. "So, please, don't come back into my life and ruin whats been good. I don't need this." 

"Carl," Rick wanted to scream and cry and just shake Carl and tell him everything. Tell him that he loves and adores him. Tell him that he hates Negan and can do so much better. "Carl, hey..." Carl was moving away from him, walking towards the other side of the room. "I don't wanna fight, okay? I don't. I'm sorry," Rick was infuriated by Negan. His cocky smirk and god complex. Rick would shoot him on site if he could. "I'm sorry, sweetheart..." He wrapped his arms around Carl and pulled him backs against his chest. "Just over protective." Rick was much more than that. 

"Okay," Carl didn't believe him. That didn't matter, though. His dad was back and he didn't want to fight. He wanted to make up all the years he lost. He wanted to show his dad how he learned to shoot a gun and how he can protect himself. Carl wanted to impress his dad. "Okay." He nodded and pulled away, facing Rick. "I've been safe, dad. Negan is good to me. He even..." Carl looked down. "He had wives before me. And now he doesn't. He only wants me dad and he makes me happy..." Carl looked up at Rick, his puppy dog eye practically rippling Ricks heart out. "Just give him a chance. He'll respect you once he knows who you are." 

"Okay," Rick whispered. "I'll give him a chance. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna like it." He turned and looked back at the door, swallowing. Negan was the type of man Rick would've arrested and bragged about. Someone so cocky and obnoxious, someone who loved to hear themselves talk and prides themselves on the fact that they are so much better, were always the person Rick loved to arrest. He adored seeing them defeated, even mad. Rick wasn't much for tearing people down, but when it came to assholes Rick would happily comply. "Go get him. I'll wait in here." 

Carl left the room silently, shutting the door behind him. Rick was tempted to look around. Stuff a knife in his pocket in case things get messy. Snoop. Anything to calm his nerves. Negan was a monster but for his own mental stability Rick prayed that the guy could be good. That maybe, just maybe, Carl really was the exception. Snooping wouldn't work, though. Carl already showed him most of the room. If there was something to hide it was hidden very, very well. Rick sat down on the couch and slid his hands up and down his jeans, wiping the sweat off of them. He was more nervous than he would like to admit. The boy that was in this room wasn't the one Rick drove to school every day. There was a gap. Rick was willing to mend it. Was Carl? 

Getting used to Negan would take time. If he was being honest, Rick didn't believe it was possible. But he would have to get used to tolerating Negan. Being polite and biting his tongue. Rick would rather bite a bullet than suck the guys dick like everyone else seemed to be doing. Rick knew that they were just surviving, but it would take a lot of fear to make Rick give up his free will and submit to a disgusting, vile, and insane man like Negan. He was sick. Wanting Carl after breaking him down. Negan only liked broken toys, Rick had learned. So Rick was going to make it his job to fix Carl, because the Carl he raised would never run to the man who hurt him. There was more to the story. Rick just had to keep reading. 

The door to the bedroom creeped open as Negan stepped inside, Carl following close behind him. Negan didn't seem angry, which was a good thing, but he didn't really seem to feel anything. His face was expressionless and for a moment Rick missed his devilish grin. The child, Judith, wasn't with them. She must have been passed off to one of Negans people, no, workers. Negan was no king. Negan sat down in the chair in front of him, staring Rick down like he was an animal. He tilted his head from side to side, licking his lips. Next to him, Carl sat down. His face was emotionless too. Being around Negan must have been a drag. Or maybe good feelings were shown as weakness. That wouldn't be the craziest thing Rick had heard that day.

"Negan... this is my dad, Rick." Carl looked between the two men. Rick liked to pretend Carl looked at him with more love. Rick also liked lying. "He used to be a cop and... everything he told us is true. My dad..." He smiled, causing Rick to mimic him. "My dad didn't die." Negan didn't seem to notice or even care about Carls happiness. He looked at Rick with almost envy. "Say something, I mean, I know its shocking but-" 

"You're lucky, kid." Negan reached over and put his hand on Carls inner thigh. "Real lucky." He looked at Carl, lovingly, then at Rick. "You know how lucky you are, officer friendly?" He leaned towards Rick, chuckling when Rick moved back. "My wife fucking died when they attacked. All those machines shut off and she fucking died." Negan grabbed Ricks shirt and jerked him forward, causing Rick to fall against the table that separated them. "What made you so god damn special?" 

Rick stared up at Negan with wide eyes. His first instinct was to beat him. Rip his throat out with his teeth or deck him. But he couldn't. Rick wasn't going to let one of Carls first new memories be him turning into a monster. Carl didn't need to see it. Rick would just have to wait. Patience is virtue. "I'm sorry..." Rick whispered. "I'm sorry for you loss..." Rick was always good at playing weak. He had perfected his game. "I didn't... I don't know, I used to wish I wasn't alive but I-" 

"So, let me get this straight. You fucking survive the dead taking over while in a coma. You don't get eaten or die because your machines don't work. You weren't fed or anything, but you still manage to live. And you-" Negan shoved Rick back against the couch. "You fucking wish you died?" Negan laughed. This man really was a psycho. "You survive all of that shit on pure fucking luck and you wish you were dead!" Negan stood up, looking at Carl. "Get me my bat, Carl." 

"Negan," Carl whispered. "I know losing her was hard-" Rick could see the sadness in his eyes. Carl was still a child. Even after all of this he wanted to see the good things. Carl must pretend Lucille was never alive. That Negan and him are in some fairytale where they don't love anyone but each other. Rick pitied his child like thinking. Poor kid. "But you aren't hurting him, okay? Please, just-" 

Negan walked past Carl, grabbing his bat with one hand. He gripped it and walked into the middle of the room. "Get on the ground. You're about to wish you died in that hosptial." He rested the bat on his shoulder, shaking his head. "Selfish bastard. Bet you don't even think about how everyone's lost people. You only think about how you lost your son. Because the world seems to revolve around you and only you." In one swift motion Negan slammed his bat against the ground. "News flash, asshole, not everyone is as fucking lucky as you and your boy!" 

"Negan." Carl stood up, walking towards him. Negan was taking more swings at the ground. It would have been over kill if Rick was on the ground. The first swing would've killed him, the rest seemed to be just for fun. Carl moved in front of him, putting his hands over Negans which were holding the bat. "You need to go calm down. We can do this tomorrow. It's getting late and dinner will be done soon and we all just need to think." Carl looked back at Rick apologetically. "Just go down and take a few walkers out. Breathe. I love you." 

Rick felt sick. Negan was silent under Carls touch. The room was still, the only sound being Negans heavy breathing. The bat clattered to the ground as Negan gripped Carl. He buried his face in the boys neck and held him right, seemingly calming down. Carl stroked his hair and murmured things Rick couldn't hear. He was thankful for that. Negan pulled away and looked at Rick with a glare before walking out of the room. Carl ran his fingers through his hair and came back, sitting down in front of Rick.

"Hey..." Carl took Ricks hands in his. "I'm having Negan send up Tara and Enid. Enid will show you your room and Tara will bring you clothes. Don't worry about coming to dinner-" Which meant don't come, I can only calm Negan down so much, and if you come he may kill you. "I'll bring you some up later. Your room has a shower since this is Negans level, so you can shower and rest." Carl leaned over and kissed Ricks cheek. "Don't worry, this will all be okay. Negans just not used to.. people we used to know." 

Rick nodded, smiling at Carl. "It's okay," It wasn't. He was only sleeping a few doors down from the man who wanted him dead. "You're safe and that's all that matters. That's all that ever mattered, Carl." He pulled Carl towards him, kissing his forehead. All he could think about was the tattoo on his leg. "You can go take care of him. I think he needs it," Rick forced out an awkward laugh. It was dry and painful. "I think if you don't he'll cone up and kill me." 

Carl rolled his eye, kissing Ricks other cheek before backing up towards the door. "You'll be fine. The girls will love you. Enid already respects you. She loves the ones who don't suck Negans dick automatically. She barely listens to him as it is." He shrugged. "Negan has a thing for young people who hate listening or something, because she's never been punished." Sickening thoughts ran through Ricks head. Thoughts of Negan liking anyone above thirteen despite the gender. He was going to be sick. Carl opened the door and waved bye to Rick. "Love you, dad." He called before walking out of the room. 

It took a few minutes before the door roughly swung open. A girl a little shorter than Carl stood in front of him, faded jeans and a white t-shirt clinging to her body. Long brown hair flowed over her shoulders and down her chest, almost touching her hips. In her hand was a loop of keys that were hooked to the loop of her jeans. She tilted her head to the side and looked at Rick, studying him in a more intense way than Negan did. She ran her fingers through Ricks hair and walked inside, looking down at Rick. She was easily Carls age but Rick wasn't sure if she was Tara or Enid. The girl didn't seem to be one of asking questions, so Rick didn't bother. 

"What are you staring at?" The girl asked. Rick could ask her the same thing. "You haven't seen a girl before?" She turned around, shaking her head. "I swear Negan picks all the idiots to stay. He kills the smart ones that reject him but he always keeps the idiots. It strokes his ego knowing that with a few threats everyone will be ready to please him," Rick would have to kill him fast. With a gun or a knife through the skull. She sighed, shaking her head. "Asshole." She must be Enid, the one who can do just about anything to Negan and get away with it. Same as Carl. Rick tried not to let his mind wonder. 

Rick stood up and followed her, silently. The hallway was wide but barely lit. Puddles of water sat on the ground, stirring when they walked past. Enid wasn't talking and for a moment, Rick was tempted to speak. To tell her how she doesn't have to be stuck with Negan. Tell her how he's making a plan and needs help because Carl would never turn his back on the man. But he didn't. Rick had to play his cars right and only tell people that prove they aren't wrapped around his finger. Enid stopped at a room five doors from Negans. It was also across the hall, but it didn't mean much. Enid unlocked the door and shoved it open.

"Follow me," She turned the lights on and looked around the room. "You got a bed and a desk and two chairs. You got books and a bathroom with running water. The water pressure is best up here, so don't be surprised if people come knocking. I used to sell your room for stuff I would need or want. It's gonna take a while for people to find out they can't buy good water pressure anymore." Rick understood why Negan liked her. She was pratical and smart. She turned around and walked towards the door. "If you need anything, ask Tara, she's more afraid of him than I am." The door closed within seconds. 

Rick looked around his room, his fingers dancing across the walls as he walked. There was a book case and a desk with paper and a pen. On the walls were different paintings that all had water damage but not enough to ruin them. Random objects covered the two nightstands and other small tables in the room. They were probably just thinks Negan thought were cool. He was like a child almost, if he saw something he liked and knew he could take it he would, not because he wanted it but because he could get away with it. 

A soft knock came to the door. "Hello?" Tara. "I brought some clothes for you. Enid and Carl said you were up here uh... I, um, I'm coming in." The knob jiggled before a girl taller than Enid walked in. They had the same length of hair but Tara had hers pulled back and it was much thicker. In her arms was a box that must have been filled with clothes. "Socks, underwear, pants, the whole nine yards. The bathroom as towels and if you want more just... just ask." She set the box down on the bed and looked around. She extended a hand and shook Ricks. "I'm Tara and hopefully, I'll see you around." 

As if she was scared of Rick she turned around and walked out, shutting the door before Rick had any time to reply. Rick looked at the box of clothes then at the bathroom before kicking his shoes off. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the water, sighing when the warmth hit his hand. He dried his hand on his shirt before. And when Rick pulled his clothes off to shower, he tried his best to ignore the black tattoo thay stood out against his skin. Tattoos didn't matter anymore, Rick told himself, Carl said so.


	7. Chapter 7

The shower was warm, but it wasn't an uncomfortable heat. No where near the blazing sun and the humid air. It was relaxing, Rick could practically feel his muscles relaxing beneath the soft spray of the water. It was hard to believe places like this existed, places with working showers and a good food supply and electricity. People had their own little worlds, small functioning societies. And now Rick was part of one. The safety he felt in the room and the relaxation he felt in the shower was almost enough for Rick to respect Negan. He was sick and twisted but he made it work, Negan had built a home, a society where people worked during the day then slept at night. Rick could respect the brains it must have taken, then again Negan wasn't much for mind strength. He was one for fear. 

Rick didn't know how long he stayed in the shower. He probably used up all the hot water the Sanctuary could create, but he deserved it. After years and years of pain and sweating and being covered in blood he fucking deserved it. He stood with his back to the water and let the small drops pound into his back like small needles. He ran his fingers through his hair and debated on searching through the bathroom for a razor to get rid of his beard. He liked the scruff, but it was getting too long and he was starting to not recognize himself. The heat in the shower was relaxing, it even made his lungs feel clean. Rick wasn't sure how long it had been, but it had been years since he felt this calm and safe. 

Rick tried his best not to let his mind wonder, tried to focus on the sound of the squeaking pipes and the water thudding against the floor below him, but it continued to travel away. His brain tortured him with images. Images of his boy shot and bloody on the ground. Images of his son, crying on his knees as a man scooped out his eye ball. Images of the two people he had grown up with dead. Images of them as zombies, too. It was like memories of things Rick had never seen rushed through his mind. 

Rick slammed his hands against the wall, grabbing at the knob and twisting it, the water slowly turning off. Small drops of water fell from the shower head and landed on the back of Ricks neck as he pressed his forehead to the pipes. Dinner would be there soon, he needed to dry off and be ready. He shook his head to himself and pushed off of the wall, backing up. His reflection in the puddles of water below him caught his eye. Rick was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't fresh faced and hopeful. He wasn't a good man anymore. He wasn't the cop that checked on old ladies and helped people carry stuff in. He was a killer, a manipulator. 

Rick felt his stomach twist as his mind wondered towards Carl for the millionth time. Was Ricks ever a good guy if he was destined to be with his son? Was Rick always a predator? Rick leaned back against the wall and took deep breaths, clawing at the cheap plastic tile that held the shower together. Was Rick always destined to hurt his son? To be the man to raise him and the man to marry him? The idea of always being this way, of always being the man his son would be with forever made him feel dizzy and sick. Rick grabbed the shower curtain and yanked it open, the plastic loops clicking against the metal rod they were hooked around. 

With shaking legs, Rick stepped out of the shower and dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. He grabbed at the lid of the toilet, opening it so fast that it bounced against the frame and fell back down. Rick pressed his elbows to the rim of the toilet and gripped the upper part of the frame, gagging into the water. His stomach had been empty for the most part, but that didn't stop Rick from choking and coughing up acid and water that suddenly made his empty stomach feel heavy. Rick swallowed only to have another ripple of gags tear through his body. Heavily, Rick fell back against his feet, tilting his head up. Breathing burned but he still managed, digging his nails against the rim of the toilet bowl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, kicking his legs out from under himself. 

Rick leaned back against the door and stretched his legs out in front of him. His limp arms fell to his sides, his eyes slowly blinking open. The once dim light seemed far too bright once Rick opened his eyes again. With a deep breath and a hard shove, Rick stood up and grabbed at the counter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook the trail of spit off of it before he grabbed one of the towels. Rick tried to keep his eyes trained on the sink but he couldn't help but look up in the mirror at himself. 

His hair stuck flat against his head, the scruff of his newly formed beard was uneven and patchy. The bags under his eyes were heavy and his lips were chapped and cracked. He was tanner than he used to have been, but he was also sun burnt on his face and upper arms. Rick stepped back and looked around the room, chewing on his inner cheek. With both hands he brushed his hair out of his face and ducked it behind his ears, shivering as the cool air began to cling to his body. Rick crouched down and opened up the cabinet below the sink, smiling to himself when there was a small box of razors. Many of the razors were missing but there were still a few left. 

Rick grabbed a razor out of the package and stood up, kicking the doors of the cabinet closed. The razor looked small in his hands, the green color of it standing out against the pale, callus' of his hand. He grabbed the shampoo out of the shower and squirted some in his hand, rubbing his hands together and rubbing it into his beard. His hand was shaking when he lifted the razor, his eyes focusing on the three blades that were stuck inside of the plastic exterior. One week ago Rick would have dug the blades out of the razor until his hands were bloody and stuffed them into his pocket and kept them as weapons. Now, he was normal again, using them to shave the hair off of his face. Normal didn't feel right anymore. 

Rick shaved his beard off, leaving some parts of scruff, but not a lot. Part of him missed looking the way he did when he was shot. A clean face. The clean face that his son saw before everything went bad. Rick wondered if Carl missed his clean shaved face. It would be stupid to shave it all off and hope that maybe that would make things better. There's no way to bring back what they used to have. The innocent father son love, the love where Rick kept him protected and made sure Carl never had to question his worth. That was gone now. Carl was hurt, Carl had been hurt. Shaving his face wasn't going to bring his little boy back, and it sure as hell wouldn't bring the old him back either. 

Rick dropped the razor in the sink and picked up a towel, rubbing it across his head. His hair was partly dry, but it was still dripping small drops of water onto his back. He squeezed his hair out in the towel over and over before hanging it across the curtain rod. Rick needed to keep towels here, there was no way of knowing if this "sanctuary" Negan had created would stay standing tall for much longer. He picked up another towel and started to dry his chest, then his stomach and back. His legs were the last to dry and he didn't even bother to dry his feet. 

The tattoo on his thigh seemed to stand out more than ever almost as if it was mocking him. Rick reached down and traced the outline of it. A tattoo that once brought him so much joy and excitement now only made him feel sick and hollow. Rick gripped the towel before shaking it out and hanging it over the curtain rod. Rick opened the door and walked into the room making sure to scan the entire area before walking out. Rick was still on guard, he was afraid he always would be. 

On the neatly made bed sat his clothes. Gray sweats and a white shirt. There were black socks and black boxers to match. It was odd seeing clean, folded clothes. Rick tried his best to wash his clothes in sinks or rivers, but nothing ever made them look as neat and as clean as these clothes. Rick brushed his hair back with his fingers once more, picking up the pair if boxers and inspecting them before shrugging and pulling them on. They looked clean and a lot better than the ones he had been wearing so there wasn't a problem. He wasn't going to turn down goods again, not anymore. He wasn't going to owe Negan. Negan was choosing to let Carl give this stuff away, he wasn't going to pass on it. 

Next, Rick sat down on the bed and pulled both of the socks on. They didn't match, one was long and one was short, one had a stripe where the toes went and the other didn't. Then again, Rick had no room to judge, they didn't have any holes like his did, so he wasn't going to complain. Rick pulled on the crisp white shirt, sighing when he felt the cotton wrap around him. The shirt felt new, unlike the socks and boxers. It caused Rick to have a flood of memories that made him both happy and sad. He missed the simplicity of life before the walkers, but he knew he would never go back. Even if he was given the option to go he would stay. Rick wasn't a part of society anymore, he was an animal. Rabid and feral. 

Rick looked down at the tattoo again, tilting his head to the side. It was colored in different shades of black and gray, three edges sticking out and one hole on the bottom. It looked like the type of a puzzle piece that belonged in a puzzle old people played. Lori used to joke that Rick was the missing piece on someone's life, but now even thinking of the joke made Ricks insides twist in knots. It was ironic, too, Shane always liked to point that out. Out of all the tattoos in the world, Rick got stuck with the most cliché of them all. A puzzle piece. It was the stuff out of a movie. A really bad romcom. 

Rick pressed at the tattoo before rubbing it as if it would disappear, like it was a piece of dirt that if he picked at enough would disappear. Finding Carl was the best day of his life, but now it's being tainted and ruined by the tattoo. Rick stopped for a moment, digging his nail into the skin. He tilted his head to the side and chewed on his lip, looking back at the bathroom. There were razors, which had a set of blades tucked beneath the plastic of each one. With a blade he could deform the tattoo, maybe even peel all of the skin off and never have to see it again. 

Getting the blades out of the razor wasn't hard. All he had do to was break the plastic off and pull each blade out. His fingers did get cut up in the process but that was a small price to pay. He wasn't going to let Carl find out about this. Carl couldn't find out about it if the tattoo was gone or completely mutilated. This was the right thing to do. Plus it was simple compared to all the other pain Rick had gone through. No amount of blades digging into his skin could compare to the crippling pain Rick went through when he thought he lost Carl for good. This pain was nothing. This pain could keep them good, if what they even were was good. 

Rick closed the top of the toilet and sat down, leaning back against the frame. He looked at the razor blade and how it caught the light from the lightbulb. He took a deep breath and pulled the skin his tattoo covered tight. The first cut was the worst, getting the blade into the skin and letting blood begin to pool out. Smaller cuts always hurt more than gashes, Rick had learned. He cut it again, doing his best to cut up all the important parts of the tattoo. He dug the blade deep and tried to dig the tattoo out of his skin the way he would dig a bullet out, biting his tongue so hard he feared he would bite it off. The skin slid across the blade, smearing blood across the silver color. Ricks nerves were on fire, it took all the power he had not to scream. 

With a final cut, the skin was cut off leaving a bloody outline on his thigh. Rick had heard stories of people who cut their tattoos off. Ones that got tattoos over the one they were born with. It wasn't a lot, but it wasn't uncommon that people hated their soulmates. There were many reasons ranging from getting on each other's nerves to cheating and abuse. Rick never thought he would love his soulmate but still be cutting off any proof that they were together. Rick loved Carl more than anything else, that's why he was doing this. For Carls safety, for Carls comfort. He didn't want to think about how Carl would react if he saw the tattoo. Rick was 99.9% sure that it wouldn't be good. 

Rick grabbed one of the towels and pressed it against the gash, his skin burning against the rough, cold, and wet material. He bit his lip, kicking the cabinet and taking a deep breath. Lori always told him that he needed to breathe when he was in pain. That holding his breath kept all the pain inside. Rick remembered thinking that each time he was punched, shot, or stabbed. As a cop and as a suvivor. He hated having good memories with Lori after all the pain she caused, but he did love her. He hated himself for that, too. 

Once the gash had stopped bleeding, Rick pulled the towel away and dug beneath the sink to find bandages. He wrapped his leg so tight that he could feel the blood flow being cut off, but he didn't care. He wasn't taking a chance of it coming open and bleeding while he was in front of other people. Rick stood up and grabbed the toilet paper, getting down on his knees and wiping the blood off of the toilet, the floor, and the walls and cabinets. He threw the toilet paper into the trash can, grabbing onto the edge of the sink and pulling himself to his feet. He grabbed onto the knobs of the sink and twisted them, thrusting his hands under the rushing water. He scrubbed the blood off before wiping them on the now blood stained towel. Rick stuffed the towel under the sink in the cabinet and shut it, making mental note to burn the towel later.

As he gripped the door frame, Rick stepped out of the bathroom. His leg hurt like hell, a combination of burning and numbness filling his blood stream, but all he did was remind himself it was worth it. This wasn't the worst he had felt, either. A small cut could not compare to being shot. Or getting beat. Or getting hit by a car and left for dead. Yeah, Rick had a unfortunate, pain filled life. But he survived and now the ache of his bones and the scars on his body were paying off. Carl and him were together again. That's what mattered. Nothing else.

Rick collapsed onto the bed, grabbing the sweat pants and sliding them on, wincing each time he moved his leg. This was going to last a long time, but after a few days he would get used to it. Rick pulled himself up on the bed, keeping his legs straight and propping himself up with three of the four pillows that were on the bed. Now was the first time Rick really looked at the room. It was simple but big, and it had everything a room needed. In fact, it was surprising that the room had tables and chairs and a bed that didn't have wires sticking out every few inches. Negan may have been an asshole, but he was on top of things. He was a hell of a ruler and for a few seconds he didn't blame Carl for staying or for being seduced by his power. 

He wasn't going to ruin this for Carl, even if it was hard as hell to bite his tongue and keep his hands at his side's. One way or another Negan was going to learn who Carl belonged to. No matter how fancy and impressive and cool Negan was, Carl would always come back to his dad. Ever since Carl was a kid he loved Rick. Looked up to him like he was some sort of God or a man who could move mountains. Part of Rick had always wondered what the image Carl had in his mind for him looked like. Was it different? Or was it the same old Rick that Rick saw in the mirror? Carl always treated him like he was this amazing person who could do no wrong. Did Carl know the things Rick did and love him despite it? Or did he love him for it? Or maybe, just maybe, Carl had Rick built up on a throne of lies.

Outside of his room, in the hallway were footsteps. It sounded like there were multiple people, two or three. It caused Rick to tense. The bathroom looked fine, the light was shut off and the blood was cleaned up. The razor blades were still out but Rick doubted that Carl would do an inspection of his room when he delivered the food. Rick was still nervous, though. If there were two people it meant Carl was with someone, with Negan. There was no other reason for anyone else to be upstairs, especially at this time. Rick held his breath and gripped the sheets, trying his best to sit still. He needed to be able to hear what they were saying, even if he didn't like it. 

"I'm going to be spending the night with him tonight," Carls voice was soft and barely audible. "It's been a long time and I just... I need this, okay?" There was silence. Rick didn't need to think about it to realize Negan was pissed. There had been a tension between them since they met. Carl loved them both, but Negan knew, whether he admit it or not, Carl would always choose his father. "I'm just gonna give him his dinner and catch up with him." 

"Weren't you guys catching up earlier?" Negans voice boomed down the hallway, sneaking into the cracks of the door and walls. "I mean, I get he's your dad and all, but it's been eight years. You aren't gonna catch up in one night. If anything, you guys barely remember each other. You guys probably don't even know how to act around each other." Negan stopped walking and turned around. Rick could hear the floor boaeds squeaking. "Just come to bed. This is overwhelming." One step. "I know how I can get you to relax." Another. "You've been so tense." 

"Negan," Carl sounded happy. Ricks stomach twisted like there was a grip on his guts. "As much as I would love to relax, this is what I need. I missed him every day for eight years and now it's back." Carl kissed him. Rick could hear their lips slotting together. He wanted to vomit again, but it would be nothing but gags. "And it's overwhelming, but I don't want to feel like I'm calling a stranger my dad-" 

"Is he really your dad anymore?" Negan asked, moving closer to Carl. "I mean, who takes care of you? Who protects you? Who's the one who taught you how to hunt and fight? Who's the one who's saved you over and over? Who's the one who gives things up so you can have them?" Negan sounded angry, but it was controlled. He wasn't shouting but his voice was tense. Rick could hear how he was holding back. "Who's been there for you?" 

"You." Carl whispered, stepping closer and leaning against Negan. The floor beneath them groaned at the weight. "You've done all of that for me and I'm thankful, I'm so, so thankful. I love you so much. I'm so glad you've been there but..." Carl sighed. "He's still my dad, Negan. And I love him." 

"But I'm..." Negan slammed his fist against the wall. "He hasn't done shit for you. I've done everything. You can't just let him come into your life and take credit for what I've done for you." Negan slammed Carl against Ricks door, holding him there. The door shifted as Carl squirmed against the wood. "I'm the one who saved you, I made you strong, I made you better than all those weak people you were traveling with." 

"I know." Carl didn't sound afraid. Rick was glad. He needed to know that Carl wouldn't let Negan push him around. "I'm not giving him credit. He did raise me until I was eight and that is something. He still means something to me the way Lucille still means something to you. Now I'm going to go into my dad's room and have dinner with him and sleep there. And you're going to go back to our room and sleep. In the morning you better be more mature about this or so help me God, Negan, the next time you see that bat she'll be wood chips." 

Negan was silent for a moment before chuckling. He backed away from Carl and sighed. "I taught you all too well, kid. I better watch out or the next thing I'll know is you'll be killing me and taking this place over." Rick could tell he wasn't killing. Negan wouldn't put it past Carl to kill him and take it all. Rick would. He saw the way Carl looked at him. Carl adored Negan the way he used to adore Rick. Carl just won't take any shit from him. "Alright, I'm going to bed." There was a small kiss before footsteps began to head down the hall again. "I love you, kid." 

"Love you." Carl called. He pushed himself off of the door and knocked on it before jiggling the door knob. "Dad? It's me. I brought you some dinner. It was chicken and corn and a bunch of different fruit. I also snuck you a few rolls, just don't tell." He jiggled the knob again before sighing. "Come open the door. This is a lot to carry, you know..." 

Rick stood up from the bed and gripped the edges of it as he walked towards the door. His shoulder slammed into the wall as he leaned against it for support. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, smiling some. "Hey..." He whispered. Like they were a secret. He took the food from Carls hands and forced himself to stand up right, clenching his jaw at the pain shooting up his leg. He closed he door once Carl walked inside, locking it once more. "This all looks amazing," He whimpered out, covering all the painful sounds he made with coughs. He set the food on the edge of the bed and climbed in, parting a spot on the bed next to him. 

"Mom always got pissed at you for eating in bed." Carl kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the bed. He sat a foot away from Rick, looking down at his lap. He picked at his nails which was a nasty habit that started when he was a kid. The teachers and doctors they talked to said it was anxiety from all the fighting Lori and Rick did. That only caused more fighting. "Go on," Carl whispered, nudging him. "Eat." 

"I'll eat when you stop sitting far away from me like I'm some stranger," Rick whispered. He looked at Carl, feeling his heart race. Warmth filled his chest and for once in his life after years and years of running and fighting, he felt at ease. He nudged Carl some, smiling. "You never used to be shy around me," He whispered, leaning down towards Carl some. "I'm still your dad, Carl-" Just a man you don't recognize. "And nothing has changed." Everything has changed. "Come on-" 

Carl flung himself into Ricks arms, climbing into his lap and straddling his hips. Tears ran down his cheek as he buried his face in Ricks neck, taking a deep breath. He dug his nails into Ricks back, nearly clawing through the shirt he was wearing. Carl sniffled and squirmed in Ricks lap, pulling his father as close as he could. Rick wasn't sure where he ended and Carl began anymore. Not that he was complaining. He pulled away some and wiped his eyes, hunching down so he looked like a kid again. So that he looked like Ricks little boy again. "You aren't a stranger," He whimpered. Ricks heart ached for him and all the pain he had felt. "I just... I don't know what's happened and I don't know what to do or what to say. I just... there's so much I don't know about you daddy," Carl cupped Ricks face in his hands. "I used to know everything." 

"We can talk about it tonight," Rick whispered. "Just let me eat some and you can ask me all the questions you want. I'll tell you the truth, I swear," Little lies wouldn't hurt, Carl. Most of the lies would protect him, anyway. He already was being crushed by the world he held on his shoulders. The soulmate tattoos would just add more weight and Carl didn't need that. He needed to drop the world and be a kid again, be Ricks kid again. "No more secrets, no more gaps, okay?" He pressed his forehead to Carls before pulling away and kissing his forehead.

Beneath his lips Carl nodded. He was still gripping Rick like he was the thing keeping him alive. "Okay."


End file.
